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Hollis wandered back with fresh bandages around his nose. His eyes were watering, but he tried to look attentive.

Harry looked at me and said, “I need you to do your best work on this case. And that means a solve.”

Hollis managed to say, “What about me?” He sounded like Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer after his father covered his nose with mud.

Harry said, “Bennett’s on legwork. You’re on research.”

My mind was already skipping ahead in the investigation. It’s a double-edged sword when your boss has that much faith in you. You can do things your way, but you absolutely have to get results. And quick.

Chapter 11

Daniel Ott was a little concerned that he was being rash. He’d finished the job at the insurance company only yesterday and was already seriously intending to make the snotty intern his next victim.

Waiting longer between victims—and distancing himself from any particular office—was meant to give the cops less to go on. But frankly, he was starting not to care. After all, no one ever remembered him. His superpower was being invisible in plain sight. He was completely and utterly unremarkable.

As a young man, that had bothered him. Now he embraced it. He was indistinctive. Even his workouts reflected that attitude. He didn’t exercise to get bigger, only to get stronger and faster while maintaining his trim frame.

Now he was standing in Greeley Square Park, about forty feet from the intern, Elaine Anastas, watching her without any fear of being noticed, just as he had watched her two roommates come and go from the apartment since yesterday. Elaine’s comment about how glad she was that she’d never have to do a job as lonely as his burned in Ott’s brain. The arrogance. The audacity. He’d show her.

Elaine sat on a concrete bench in the fading light, reading a paperback of Where the Crawdads Sing, her dark hair draped across her pretty face as she concentrated on the book.

He’d made a study of women’s clothing trends. Hers was student chic—a knockoff Kate Spade purse and an H&M jacket she wore over an AmazonBasics white T-shirt, and the Target Cherokee cross-trainers she’d clearly decorated herself with a few rhinestones and colorful laces. Just another pretentious bitch trying to look more sophisticated than she actually is.

Ott had already seen Elaine’s tiny apartment on 30th Street, which she shared with two other girls whose work schedules he had quickly figured out. He had taped the lock on the building’s rear door so it would not automatically close. He could slip in and out at any time. Now was his chance to savor and enjoy what was to come.

He turned his attention to speculating about one of the most important decisions he made for each victim: what kind of tools would he use this time?

He reached into the left pocket of his plain blue windbreaker. Would it be the twelve-inch, extra-fine, Phillips-head screwdriver? On the other hand, in his right pocket, the weight and shape of a Milwaukee brand combinati

on wire cutter and stripper made him grin. He’d used that tool only once before, but he loved the way it made a pattern on flesh. Like someone had gnawed on it. One news report from that kill had even mentioned the police thought there might be evidence of bite marks on the corpse. It made him almost giddy thinking about it.

Chapter 12

It took Elaine Anastas a few minutes to get moving once she put her book away in her purse. Daniel Ott barely breathed as she glanced around the park and gathered her stuff. He knew it wouldn’t be much of a walk down Sixth Avenue to 30th. No lights on in the apartment. Her roommates were at work, as scheduled.

Ott watched Elaine slip into her building and, a few minutes later, the light come on in her apartment. He cut down the alley behind her building and opened the door he knew would be unlocked. He took the tape off the lock so no one would realize that’s how he’d gotten into the building.

He slipped past a maintenance area crammed with broken lamps and microwaves, items the super had probably promised to fix. That was the easiest way to keep tenants quiet. Promise to do your best, but never give an exact date. It was a lot like Ott’s job.

He paused at the third-floor door in the stairwell. Again, he questioned himself: Was he moving too quickly? Was it a bad sign that he was unable to control his urges? Sometimes Ott wondered if this was what a drug addict felt, though he knew his affliction was more like a mental illness. When he actually had a victim within his reach, wave after wave of a perfect balance of excitement and calmness would wash over him. He knew his mind would be clear after it was done. That’s all he really needed. A clear head.

In a way, he had no choice. He’d be leaving New York City soon—well, in another few weeks. He had one more company scheduled for a complete office software installation. But if he didn’t act now, he could end up lying in bed back home in Omaha thinking about nothing but this snarky intern.

No, he had to do it tonight. This girl, she’d made him too agitated. He needed to calm himself. Feel the relief. In a way, Ott was the victim. He had to kill to get mental peace.

Daniel Ott slipped on the heavy rubber surgical gloves he always wore during his murders. He also took a moment to slide fabric booties over his shoes. He felt like a surgeon. Or a medical examiner.

Then he froze, relishing the sensation that washed over him. There it is. The first tingling of the first wave of elation.

He found Elaine’s door and gave a quick, cheerful double knock. It would sound like someone she knew. He stood there with the sharpened Phillips-head screwdriver in his hand. At the last minute he’d decided against the wire cutter.

He heard the lock turn, and the door opened wide. Elaine really didn’t have any clue about living in New York.

Ott said, “Hey, Elaine, remember me?” He threw her a cheerful smile. Why not? He was in a great mood.

He enjoyed the confused look on her face. Even though she’d seen him around her office, she couldn’t place his face. It was both satisfying and infuriating at the same time.

She started to say something. Before she could complete a single word, he acted. He swung the screwdriver in his right hand in a wide arc just inside the door. It pierced her throat smoothly. He let go of the handle and just gazed at his fantastic work. The black handle of the screwdriver stuck out of one side of her neck and the bloody end poked out the other side.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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